


Kent & Chandler

by Ruunya



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Pining, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-09 13:59:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14717408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruunya/pseuds/Ruunya
Summary: In the heat of an argument, Mansell reveals one of Kent's biggest secrets without realising who is listening.





	1. The Office Pt.1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever fanfic. Please let me know what you think :) I know Whitechapel is a very quiet fandom these days but I still can't get Chandler and Kent out of my head.

Kent could feel the anger rising inside his chest, threatening to take control of his tongue.  
  
Mansell, on the other hand, had no interest in restraining himself.  
  
"You're only mad that I’m with your sister because you're so bloody alone!"  
  
"Stop," Kent raised his hand in warning, blood beginning to boil under the surface, "Just stop, Mansell."  
  
Mansell took a step towards Kent's desk, cheeks reddening with fury, fists clenched at his side.  
  
"Why? Afraid of the truth, Kent? You know, for a detective you're pretty fucking clueless."  
  
Something in Kent's chest tightened, his eyes flickered towards the closed door at the end of the office. The lowered blinds were a small blessing. He turned his attention back to Mansell, lips curling at the edges into a sneer.  
  
Kent lowered his voice to a furious whisper, "You have no idea what you're talking about."  
  
Mansell let out a loud scoff. "Oh really, Kent. Are you bloody serious?!" Mansell took a step back, waving his arm to the rest of the room. " _Everyone_ knows what I'm talking about!"  
  
Kent's lower lip dropped and his cheeks began to burn as his eyes scanned the room at the faces staring back at them. He caught Riley's gaze before she looked down at the floor. The sympathy slathered all over her face made his gut clench and a sick feeling crawl up his throat. This could not be happening.  
  
"Mansell, I swear to God if you don't stop talking right now-"  
  
"What? You gonna hit me, Kent?" Mansell laughed even louder this time, malace burning in his mouth. "You don't have the guts to hit me. Just like you never had the guts to do anything about your ridiculous crush."  
  
"Stop it, Mansell!" Kent's voice grew uncontrollably loud as his body began to shake. He had to make him stop.  
  
Riley stepped forward, edging herself between her rowing colleagues. "Mansell, I really think you should stop talking. Just take a breather-"  
  
"No, no!" He stepped around Riley. "I'm sick of him thinking that he's better than me. Just 'cause he wears a fancy suit," Mansell flicked the collar of Kent's shirt, "and sucks up to the boss... not that he's ever noticed."  
  
Tears pricked at the corners of Kent's eyes, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold them back. His voice was still shaky, his cheeks were burning hot, and his fists were itching at his sides. He needed to shut Mansell up fast.  
  
"You know what, Mansell, I do think I'm better than you. I _know_ I'm better than you." An ugly, angry grin had taken over Kent's face as he watched Mansell's grow redder. "And my sister? You will _never_ be good enough for her. You're a dumb-as-shit waste-of-space and I'm going to make sure she knows just how fucked up you are -"  
  
Mansell's fist collided with Kent's left cheek, sending him knocking into the desk with a loud crash. He stepped towards Kent's dishevelled form as he gripped the side of the table, seeking balance.  
   
DS Miles stormed into the room, their Sergeant heading straight for them. "What the bloody hell is going on in here?!"  
  
At the same time, the door to DI Chandler's office swung open.  
  
Mansell and Kent were oblivious, one caught in rage and the other reeling from the blow.  
  
All Kent could hear was Mansell as he bent down, gripped the edges of his collar and roared in his face. "No-one will ever love you. _He_ will never love you. All you'll ever be to him is a pathetic lap dog who can't take a hint!"  
  
The two men stared at each other, both minds beginning to comprehend the words just spoken.  
  
Mansell released his grip on Kent's shirt, and stood up, taking in the audience around them. His face grew ashen and a scarlet shame crept up his neck as he realised who had heard him.  
  
Kent took a few moments longer to process the situation. He pulled himself up, one hand gripping the desk, the other rising to grasp his spinning head. He worked to focus his vision and almost threw up at the sight of who was staring back at him.  
  
Chandler stepped forward, confusion etched across his face, thoughts churning behind his eyes.  
  
"What - what is going on here?" Chandler demanded quietly. Their boss rarely stepped outside his office to intervene in personnel dramas, he usually left the people-problems down to his much more personable Sergeant.  
  
Miles, sensing as much, cleared his throat and took an authoritative step towards his two subordinates. He was keenly aware of Kent’s unfading admiration for their boss, and was not naïve enough to believe it hadn't morphed into something else over the years. He was also not ignorant to the fact that his superior and friend, Chandler, was entirely oblivious to the younger man’s feelings. He needed to say something before any more drama could unfold.  
  
Before Miles could get a word out, Kent was already backing towards the door. His eyes locked with Chandler’s as he murmured "Oh God" and "I'm sorry" over and over. Kent's face had turned an impossible shade of white and hot tears were escaping down his cheeks.  
  
"Kent-" Chandler started, confusion furrowing his brow. But the younger man was gone, his figure disappearing down the hall.  
  
Chandler had no idea what had just happened. He could solve the most complicated of cases but when it came to the people closest to him, he really was the worst detective.  
  
But this was different. Something about the look on his subordinate’s face had snagged on a part inside of him, and this was one mystery he was not going to let go unsolved.


	2. The Office Pt.2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chandler attempts to investigate the fight between Mansell and Kent, only to uncover more questions than answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your wonderful feedback to the first chapter. I love Kent and Chandler so much and hope you enjoy this second instalment, I definitely enjoyed writing it :)

“Is anyone going to tell me what the hell is going on?” Chandler demanded.

The scene he had walked into was nothing short of unprofessional. He was aware that the team was under a great deal of pressure at the moment but he expected them to handle it more maturely than with fisticuffs in the office.

What surprised him more was that Kent had been involved. Chandler could not quite shake the image of Kent’s stark white face beginning to glisten as he backed towards the door.

And those words, _Oh God, I’m sorry_ , directed at Chandler had felt so strangely intimate.

He had always known Kent thrived on Chandler’s approval – he took no small amount of pride at the glow that emanated from Kent’s face whenever he praised him. He could still clearly picture the half-smile that flashed across Kent’s lips when he had thanked him for the piece of chalk on his first day in Whitechapel.

Had Kent been saying _I’m sorry_ over and over because he was afraid Chandler would think less of him? Surely he knew it would take a lot more than an argument for Kent to lose his respect.

Chandler had always been secretly pleased and overwhelmingly proud of the detective Kent had become over the years. A pang of regret sliced through his every-growing anxiety as he realised he probably hadn’t made that clear before.

In any case, he knew the instigator of the fight was more likely to be Mansell. He was – after all – the only one Chandler saw throw a punch. His red-faced subordinate stood frozen in front of him, shame slathered across his face.

And those things Mansell had said… calling Kent a _pathetic lapdog_. The cruelty behind those words nagged at something inside of Chandler. Some protective instinct fighting to take over. He pushed the urge aside and turned his attention towards the silent room in front of him.

He searched for answers in the familiar faces. They had yet to respond to his question.

“I said – what the hell is going on?” Chandler demanded with all the authority he could muster. He could feel the familiar itch of anxiety beneath his collar and under his cuffs. He cleared his throat in an attempt to distract himself.

More silence followed, a few shuffled feet, and an almost audible gulp from Mansell who was doing his damnedest to avoid making eye contact with Chandler. But no amount of staring at the ground could distract from the harsh scarlet rouge enveloping his face.

Why the hell had Mansell not said anything? Usually he would have blabbed his mouth a hundred miles-per-hour by now, claiming it wasn’t his fault, and pushing the blame onto someone else. Now would be the perfect time to play the victim, particularly since Kent was not around to defend himself.

Something felt so entirely off about the situation. A faint nausea crept up Chandler’s throat. His fingers trembled slightly. He needed to regain control.

“Now would be an ideal time to explain yourself, Mansell. I suggest you do it quickly and succinctly.”

Mansell’s eyes shot up to meet Chandler’s. The humiliated red of his cheeks melted away into a pale white. No words came out.

“Well?!” Chandler demanded again. Fury etched at the surface of his mind.

His protective instincts surged up again as he recounted the words Mansell had said to Kent. _No-one will ever love you. He will never love you. All you'll ever be to him is a pathetic lap dog who can't take a hint!_

Something clicked in the back of Chandler’s mind. The echo of Kent’s apology ricocheted like an alarm bell against his thoughts.

It couldn’t be true, could it?

Nervous tremors struck like waves throughout his body. Air became an elusive beast. He breathed deeply through his nose – in and out… in and out.

He needed answers. Now. He could no longer handle the silence and was overwhelmed at the questions threatening to invade his mind.

Mansell had said _he will never love you_. Surely he hadn’t meant… No, there must be a reasonable explanation for this – for those words.

He was going to get to the bottom of it one way or another.

“If you all refuse to fill me in on whatever the hell happened here, then I will have to ask DC Kent myself.”

He watched as Mansell’s eyes grew panicked and shot across the room towards Miles. His expression was pleading, a look Chandler had rarely – if ever – seen on Mansell’s face before.

Miles sighed and looked pensive for a moment, clearly weighing something up in his mind. He had been silent this entire time and it infuriated Chandler to know his Sergeant was clearly keeping something from him. Miles looked back at Mansell and slowly shook his head as if to say _stand down_.

Chandler had had enough. This was beyond ridiculous. He shot Miles a look of exasperation and stormed towards the door Kent had escaped through only minutes earlier.

Miles had once mentioned Kent cried in the car park whenever a case became too intense. Perhaps that’s where he could find him.

Chandler’s feet marched towards the stairs while his mind worked furiously to erase any and all questions currently pressing for his attention. His lungs still grappled for oxygen as he inhaled over and over.

He was instantly dragged from his inner whirlpool by a loud crash coming from the men’s washroom.

He retraced his steps, moving tentatively towards the washroom. With no small amount of hesitation – Chandler gently pushed open the door and stepped inside.

 


	3. The Men's Washroom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent panics in the men's washroom after his fight with Mansell and Chandler goes in search of Kent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what everyone... I took the day off work yesterday and finally wrote the last four chapters in this series. I will publish a new chapter every day for the next four days, so it's worth setting a bookmark. 
> 
> I really hope you like it! We will finally have an ending to this beautiful story :)

Kent paced back and forth in the men’s washroom. _This could NOT be happening._ His brain was screaming a hundred thoughts he refused to acknowledge.

Everyone _knew_ . They all _knew_ how he felt about their DI. He had seen glimpses of the truth on their faces when he had left the office.

And now Chandler would know his secret too.

He was a joke. And they all knew it. There was so much _pity_ in their expressions – Miles, Riley, and even Mansell – they all felt sorry for him.

He caught a passing glimpse of himself in the mirror and felt bile rise up his throat. He stopped pacing and stared – disgusted – at his own reflection.

After four or five seconds, he realised that he actually _was_ going to throw up.

Kent stumbled into the nearest cubicle and locked the door behind him. As he turned to face the toilet, a wave of dizziness struck him. He reached out for something to hold onto and managed to find purchase on the cistern lid of the toilet.

Unfortunately, like most facilities funded by the government, the cistern lid had been broken for a long time.

Under his weight, the lid slid from the top of the toilet and crashed to the ground, splintering into four or five large pieces.

 _Fuck_ . He regarded the fractured porcelain lying at his feet. _What a fucking mess._

Kent swallowed his churning nausea and bent down to pick up the pieces. Someone would _definitely_ have heard that.

At that exact moment the main door to the men’s washroom creaked open. He let out an exasperated breath. He knew it was Riley, he knew she would want to comfort him. But he did not need _mothered_.

“Just leave me alone, Riley. I don’t want to talk about it.”

His words were met with silence. “Seriously, just piss off already,” his cheeks grew hot with irritation. Couldn’t she tell he wanted to be left alone?

“Kent. Please come out here and explain yourself.”

At the sound of Chandler’s voice, Kent lost his grip on one of the pieces of porcelain. He tried to break its fall but it sliced a large gash across his palm. The porcelain fell to the ground and smashed into smaller pieces. “Fuck!”

He pressed his other hand over the wound to halt the bleeding but it only gushed harder.

“Kent, are you okay?” An edge of concern entered the DI’s voice.

Kent took a deep breath. He needed to clean the cut _and_ he couldn’t ignore an order from his superior.

With shame sewn into every crevice of his face, he slid the cubicle door open and shuffled out. He avoided the gaze of his DI and made a beeline for the nearest sink.

“What the hell happened?” Chandler strode towards him, clearly alarmed at the sight of blood.

“I’m fine, Sir. There’s no need to concern yourself.” He clenched his eyes closed as the running water stung his open wound.

“You’re clearly _not_ fine, DC.” Irritation cut through the older man’s voice. “You need to stop the bleeding. Here, let me see it.”

Chandler reached for Kent’s hand in the sink but he quickly pulled it away.

“I said, _I’m fine_ , Sir,” Kent bit back through clenched teeth. He snatched some paper towels from the dispenser and bandaged them around his hand as best he could.

His head was still spinning and he could taste the acidic tang of bile in his mouth. This whole thing was humiliating. He hated that Chandler was seeing him like this. Weak. And acting like a fool.

It injured him further to imagine the questions he would soon ask about his fight with Mansell – the truths he might be forced to reveal.

“This is all highly unusual, Kent,” Chandler looked exasperated. “First your fight with Mansell, and then the – the things he said,” Chandler stuttered ever so slightly, “And now you’re bleeding in the toilets and refusing any help. I demand that you shed some light on what is going on here.”

Kent was lost. He had no words. He was pissed off at Mansell, for the vile words he had said.   _No-one will ever love you. He will never love you._ He was pissed off at himself for spurring Mansell on in the first place, and also for only now realising how true Mansell’s words were.

But he was also pissed off at Chandler. For being so fucking oblivious to his own DC’s feelings for him. They had worked together for four years and it had taken one stupid argument with Mansell for them to finally have this conversation.

He kept his eyes on the ground, hand pressed to his wound, and swallowed, “Don’t you already know?”

Chandler didn’t respond for several seconds. Kent glanced up momentarily to catch a strange expression on his superior’s face. He looked conflicted and appeared to be debating something.

Quietly Chandler asked, “Who was Mansell talking about?” A note of caution sounded throughout his words.

Kent exhaled sharply and began to shake his head.

“Kent,” Chandler spoke more urgently this time, “Who did Mansell mean when he said _he_ would never love you?”

He squeezed his eyelids together, tears threatened to break through. Heat rose under his collar. His wounded hand throbbed.

Chandler’s voice grew more strained, and panic coloured his every word, “ _Whose_ pathetic lap dog are you, Kent?”

With that question, he broke.

“Yours. I am _your_ pathetic lapdog. _You_ are the person who will never love me. It’s you. It’s always been you.”

Kent gasped. The words finally having left his mouth. Four years of pining and unrequited love, and it was finally out in the open.

A part of him was overcome with relief, but the rest of him just felt tired. It had been such an exhausting pretence to maintain. A sense of defeat settled over him.

Kent knew what he had to do now.

“I apologise – for all of this… I never meant –” Kent paused and took a deep breath. He mustered up what was left of his pride and lifted his head to meet his DI’s gaze.

Chandler’s face was consumed with emotions that he couldn’t even begin to decipher. But this time he didn’t attempt to. Kent was done trying to figure out what was going on inside the other man’s mind.

“I will have my resignation letter on your desk by the morning.” And with that, he stepped past the man he had been in love with for almost half a decade, and made his way out of the washroom, and then down the stairs and out of the precinct.

Kent never once stopped to look back.


	4. DI Chandler's Office

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chandler makes a decision about Kent's future and broods over his verdict for the rest of the day.

The tension in the office was palatable. No-one dared speak about what had occurred the day before, at least not when Chandler was within ear shot.

Through the windows of his office, he observed as Riley and Miles exchanged worried glances whenever Kent left the room, or made a coffee, or so much as exhaled audibly.

Miles never said anything to Chandler or even addressed the situation, but he supposed that he was handling it in his own way. Miles was much better at managing the personnel aspect of the job than he was.

Mansell sat – mute – at his desk (for the first time that Chandler had ever witnessed) and quietly thumbed through paperwork. He wondered if Miles had had a word with him. Or perhaps he simply realised the severity of his own actions and had the good sense to hold his tongue for the day.

Chandler noticed that Mansell’s eyes constantly followed Kent around the room. It struck him that even _Mansell_ seemed concerned about the younger officer.

How _long_ had they all known about Kent’s feelings towards him? Had it been a joke to them, or had they realised how deep those feelings appeared to go?

All the times that his team had teased and made fun of Kent seemed to flash across his mind. _How could he not have seen it?_ Maybe he was a bad detective after all.

In any case, Kent was still here.

Chandler hadn’t been able to sleep the night before and found himself sitting at his desk at 6:30 that morning.

He was glad that he had come to work early because at around 6:45, Kent had arrived. An air of surrender following him as he kept his eyes on the ground and trudged towards Chandler’s office.

It wasn’t until he was a few feet from the door that he looked up and realised Chandler was sitting there, watching him approach.

He stopped for a second, momentarily paralysed. It was then Chandler noticed the single sheet of paper clutched in Kent’s bandaged left hand.

Kent swallowed and stepped into the office. He was unable to meet Chandler’s gaze.

“Sir,” Kent cleared his throat, “It is with my deepest regret that I… I must give you my resignation. I am not fit to be on your team.” He grimaced and continued, “I apologise for any discomfort I may have caused you and I promise you will never have to see me again. I have written a request to be relocated to another precinct.”

The words stole any remaining air from Chandler’s chest. He shook his head with disbelief as Kent handed him the piece of paper.

“Kent, you can’t leave – you _love_ this work.”

The word seemed to strike a chord within Kent, his face contorted fleetingly before he fought to smooth out his expression.

“Yes, Sir. This job means everything to me. I hope you understand that… I don’t do this lightly.” Chandler could see that Kent’s knuckles were white, his nails digging into his palms.

Kent pushed on, “What I told you yesterday… What I’m sure you’ve been aware for a long time…” he bit his lip harshly, “It’s not _going away_ , Sir. I’ve tried everything – I have. Nothing works. I’m sorry, but I’ve realised that I can’t be in this team anymore. I can’t be near –” Kent stopped himself before he could finish.

 _You_. _He can’t be near you_ , thought Chandler. Something fluttered in his chest at those words. It pained him too, but there was something that seemed to stutter to life inside of him. Something deep rooted he couldn’t put his finger on.

The unfamiliarity of it all made his anxiety itch and he subconsciously reached out to sort the pens on his desk.

He didn’t like _change_. He didn’t like the idea of coming in to work tomorrow and _not_ seeing Kent at his desk. To _not_ have his input in their cases.

He was the smartest member of the team and there was no doubt their work would suffer without him.

Chandler reasoned with himself and fought off the realisation that his decision was being swayed far more heavily by emotion than facts. Some part of him was aware that he simply could not stand the thought of not seeing Kent tomorrow, or the next day, or the next.

He stilled his hands from sorting out the pens and looked up to meet Kent’s eyes. There was so much tension in his face and he swore he could see the stark red of blood beginning to colour Kent’s lower lip.

“Kent, I do not accept your resignation.” He handed the piece of paper back to Kent who stood dumbfounded. “You are far too important to this team and we cannot allow personal matters to affect our work.

“But Sir –”

“No, DC. Please return to your desk and continue with your case files. I will not continue this conversation any longer.”

 “Yes, Sir.” Kent shuffled out of the office, paper in hand, and collapsed at his desk.

He had hoped this talk would make Kent feel better, that he would be pleased to still be part of the team. But Kent looked more lost than ever, a sense of loss appeared to fall upon him once more.

That was the last time Kent had looked him in the eye. For the rest of the day he intently stared at his notes, uttered a few words here and there to his colleagues, and then left as soon as the clock hit six.

Chandler had found the whole day unsettling and he couldn’t fight the nagging pins in his chest whenever he stole a look towards Kent’s desk.

He hated not being able to understand why other people reacted the way they did. What he hated _more_ was not being able to understand his own actions. It made more sense to reassign Kent to another precinct. Surely Kent’s emotions, left unchecked, were a liability to the team?

He should’ve reassigned him. But the thought made him nauseous.

Chandler had no idea _why_ he had made that decision, only that any other outcome seemed to fill him with dread.

He shook his head back and forth, over and over, until all his other thoughts grew quiet. Kent was still here, and _that_ was what mattered.


	5. The Local Pub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kent drinks at the local pub to forget the past fortnight and finds himself in a risky situation.

It had been two weeks since the worst fucking day of his life.

 _Somehow_ being attacked by the Kray twins and being left immobile paled in comparison to what Kent experienced a fortnight ago.

He was outed to his boss, humiliated in front of his entire team, and then the man he loved simply brushed it all aside and said, “I will not continue this conversation”. As if everything Kent had said – the truths he told – meant nothing to him.

His feelings meant nothing.

Every day since then, Kent had woken up feeling angry, ashamed, and bitter. Every day he was forced to face his colleagues and catch their pitying glances out of the corner of his eye. Every day he was required to present reports and give briefings and address his DI as if he _wasn’t_ madly in love with him, and is if his DI _was not_ completely aware.

The whole thing had left him inextricably exhausted. All he wanted was to drown it all out. So when six o’clock rolled around and Riley suggested going to the pub, he could almost feel the relief of that first cold beer sliding past his lips.

Inevitably Mansell and Miles invited themselves along too. But he figured it was a good opportunity to kill off the weirdness and have them look at him normally again.

A couple of hours went by and they were all relatively buzzed. Riley and Miles couldn’t stop laughing about some inside joke they shared. Mansell had gotten drunk and was apologising to Kent over and over again – for hitting him _and_ for outing him. The first apology was nice, the fifth one was just fucking annoying.

Kent excused himself – before Mansell began his sixth round of apologies – and made his way to the bar. The pub was packed now with after-work drinkers and he struggled to get to the bartender’s attention. He stood waiting for at least ten minutes before another man slid in beside him and managed to order a drink straight away.

“ _Fuck sake_ ,” Kent muttered under his breath. He hadn’t meant for the other man to hear him, he figured the pub was loud enough to cover his complaint.

“Oh sorry mate, did I skip you?”

Kent turned to look at the man and shook his head, “Nah, you’re alright mate.”

He expected the man to turn away and leave him alone, but instead he stared more intently, even licked his lips.

“Maybe, if you’re having trouble getting one yourself, I could buy you a drink?”

Kent was taken aback. It had been a long time since anyone had bought him a drink, at least not in _this_ way. For a brief moment he considered it; he’d had a shit time recently and maybe it would feel good to get lost in someone else for a while.

He gave the man a subtle once-over. He was good-looking in a tired businessman kind of way, but _definitely_ not his type.

“Nah, cheers mate, I’ve got this.” He raised his right hand to try to get the bartender’s attention once more. But he didn’t get the chance, the man beside him grabbed his hand and pulled it back down. He pressed forward into Kent’s space.

“Don’t try and play coy, I _offered_ you a drink. It would be rude to decline, don’t you think?”

Alarm bells rung in Kent’s head. He’d had assholes refuse to take no for an answer before, especially in some of the dodgier gay clubs he’d been to. But this was different, he was just having drinks with his colleagues in their local pub.

“I’m not interested,” Kent tried to pull away, hoping this was just a miscommunication. But the man moved his grip from Kent’s hand to his wrist.

He started to panic, “I said _I’m not interested_ – let me go.”

The man grinned back at him, “See I think you _are_ interested, a little faggot like you. You’re just playing hard to –”.

“He said _let him go_ ,” a voice demanded over the man’s shoulder.

Kent shot a look behind him and inhaled sharply at the sight of his DI standing there. When had he come in? And more to the point, _what the fuck_ was he doing here?

The man quipped around and gave Chandler a once over. “Sorry, is this your _boyfriend_?” He mocked, “He was just asking me to buy him a drink.”

Chandler’s eyes flickered from the man’s face to Kent’s and then down at the man’s grip.

“It doesn’t look like he wants you anywhere near him,” Chandler challenged. Kent felt his earlier rage rise inside of him. He didn’t need his _boss_ to stand up for him. He had been humiliated enough recently, he refused to be embarrassed further.

Kent fought against the man’s grip, but it grew tighter.

“They all put up a fight to start with – eventually they realise they want it,” the man laughed. Kent choked down bile as it rose in his throat. He pushed back once more.

“Get the fuck off of me.” He slammed his heel down on the man’s foot and used his left hand to strike a blow to the man’s nose.

The man released his grip on Kent’s wrist and stumbled backwards, clutching at his bleeding nose. Kent was sure it was broken but he didn’t stick around to find out.

He shoved through the crowd and was half way across the carpark before he heard his name being called. He turned to watch as Chandler rushed towards him.

“Kent! Are you okay?” Chandler lifted his hand towards Kent’s wrist, white finger marks throbbed on his skin. Kent pulled away before Chandler could touch him.

“I’m fine, Sir,” Kent snapped. He bit his tongue. He was keenly aware of how close his anger bubbled to the surface. He didn’t know if he could stop himself from saying something in the moment.

“Perhaps we should get you to the hospital. You might have reopened your wound with that punch.”

Kent scoffed and shook his head, “ _We_?” He could feel the resentment building in his chest. “I said, _I’m fine, Sir,_ ” he bit back.

Confusion etched itself all over Chandler’s face.

Only then did it occur to Kent that Chandler would never understand his feelings, or acknowledge them. This whole charade was pointless.

He gritted his teeth, quickly turned around and set off towards the main street. He didn’t know where he was going after that, he just hoped Chandler wouldn’t follow him. He needed to breathe.


	6. The Corner of the Street

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chandler confronts Kent on the corner of the street and panics when it doesn't go to plan.

Chandler stood speechless for two or three breaths, his face unmoving, watching as the younger man walked away.

He was exasperated. Kent was acting as if _he_ was the one who had caused him some harm, and not that vile man in the pub.

He grimaced at the memory of how the man had looked at Kent. As if he was a piece of meat. As if none of his refusals meant anything. It infuriated him, and made him feel… protective.

It was imperative that he ensured Kent was okay. And they clearly needed to talk. There was so much anger emanating from him and it made Chandler uneasy.

He dashed towards Kent’s fading figure and manged to catch him on the street corner.

“I don’t understand why you’re so angry at me. That man – he was talking to you like –”.

Kent whipped around, anguish bubbling under his skin.

“With all due respect, _Sir_ , it’s none of your concern what any man says to me. Or _how_ they say it. I don’t need _you_ to fight my battles.”

A sharp exhale left Chandler’s mouth. First, Kent avoided him at work, only spoke when spoken to, and never gave as much as a millisecond of eye-contact. And _now_ , he was grimacing as if it disgusted him to even look at him. It made Chandler’s stomach clench.

He hadn’t realised how much he relied on those small smiles and kind eyes to get him through the day. For the past week, he found himself searching the room for Kent whenever the case started to overwhelm him. But Kent didn’t look up any more, just stared at his paperwork searching for clues.

The absence of Kent’s subtle affections had taken its toll. Chandler stood in front of him now, fists clenched at his side, unable to find the right words to fix the situation.

“Kent, I – I apologise,” he mumbled, “I shouldn’t have –”.

“No. You shouldn’t have,” Kent snapped back. His outburst giving him pause, he took a deep breath and shook his head slowly. His anger subsided into something else. Sadness? Defeat?

“Sir, I have to go. If you’ll excuse me.” Kent turned to walk away, hands dug deep into his pockets.

Chandler could feel his chance to make things right quickly slip away. He didn’t know what this urgency inside of him meant or why he felt so _desperate_ to see Kent smile again. None of it made any sense to him.

All he knew was that his chest was aching and he needed to act _now_.

In one swift movement, Chandler grabbed the sleeve of Kent’s coat and spun him around.

For the briefest second, they stared confused and anxiously at each other. And then, before he could stop himself, before he could even register his own actions, Chandler crashed his lips onto Kent’s.

It wasn’t a neat kiss; it was messy and brief.

Panic rose in Chandler’s chest as he pulled away. _What had he done?_ This was _Kent_ – his subordinate, and a _man_. His thoughts collided with each other at hundred miles per hour.

But despite the noise, he couldn’t deny the soft burgeoning warmth the kiss had given him. His world seemed to shift on its axis.

* * *

All of Kent’s anger vanished in that one moment. He took a half-step backwards to assess the man who had just given him _the best kiss of his life_.

But Chandler looked confused, conflicted. It set Kent’s teeth on edge.

“I’ve never…” Chandler paused.

Kent held his breath. _Never what? Kissed another officer? ... Kissed a bloke?_

“… _Felt_ like this before.”

Kent’s breath left his body. The short gasp left his heart beating harder.

_Chandler’s eyes searched Kent’s, anxious for a response. Unsure if what he said was too much, or inappropriate. He had no idea what he was doing. All of this was new. It terrified him._

Kent nodded softly and worried at his bottom lip.

“I’ve never felt like this… about anyone,” Kent’s whole body silently tremored, “ever.”

A look of surprise coloured Chandler’s face. He swallowed and glanced down at the ground and then back up at Kent.

“Emmerson,” Chandler began, “I have no idea… how to _do_ …” he stuttered slightly, “ _a-any_ of this.”

_He desperately tried to control his breathing. It seemed impossible._

_He could feel the itch of anxiety begin to furrow under his collar. He could not have a panic attack right now. The more he tried to push it away, the more it pressed on his chest._

Kent noticed the signs immediately. He reached out for Chandler’s hand which was clenched in a fist at his side. This was the first time he would be able to comfort the man he loved with more than just words.

_Kent’s touch brought a moment of clarity to Chandler’s mind, although he still swayed from side to side and his breathing remained laboured. He looked up into Kent’s eyes._

_For the first time in his life, Chandler actually felt something more than just congenial affection for another person._

_His heart had never thundered like this. Underneath all the anxiety, there was the most pleasant warmth inside of him. He could feel what he assumed everyone had always referred to as… ‘butterflies’._

_The realisation dizzied him. He gripped tighter onto Kent’s hand - trying to anchor himself._

Kent’s face flushed with tenderness. It blossomed from deep within his chest and radiated out to the rouge of his cheeks. This love was stronger than anything he had ever felt before.

He had always known that his feelings for his DI were powerful and sometimes caused him to do stupid things, whether out of pride or bitterness or desperation.

But this feeling – right here – it transcended all his previous petty emotions. They all seemed insignificant in comparison.

Right now, all he wanted was to hold the man he loved. To reassure him and comfort him. Kent acknowledged a sense within himself that he would need to protect Chandler – that this would _not_ be an easy journey. But he knew what he wanted and he knew what he was willing to do to secure a future for them both.

Kent tugged gently at Chandler’s hand, easing the taller man towards him. Chandler’s eyes fluttered as he took in Kent’s expression – the affection radiating from him.

Kent brought his other hand up to rest on Chandler’s face.

_Chandler closed his eyes at the touch, a relief washing over him, and let out a deep breath. He brought his free hand to rest on Kent’s waist – a gesture he was not accustomed to, but he craved the stability._

A small smile teased at the corner of Kent’s face. With a slow quiet nervousness, he eased Chandler’s face towards his own. Chandler’s eyes remained closed but his grip on Kent’s waist grew tighter, he swallowed audibly.

Kent closed his eyes.

First their noses grazed and then, gradually, their lips too. After a moment their kiss grew deeper, more urgent. They breathed each other in every time their lips met, but somehow they both grew more breathless.

It was Kent who pulled away first. Only a fraction. And only to press his forehead against the other’s. He didn’t want to rush this. He was terrified that Chandler would be overwhelmed and change his mind.

“Joe,” he murmured. For a moment it occurred to him that he had never said the other man’s name out loud. Only in his head, over and over again.

Chandler seemed to acknowledge this too. He lifted his head cautiously and waited for Kent to continue.

Kent swallowed. “Would you maybe… like to get coffee somewhere?” He added, starting to feel nervous, “ _With_ _me_ , I mean.”

A smile fluttered across Chandler’s face and he let out a small laugh. “Yes, Emmerson,” he nodded, “I would love to get coffee – _with you_.”

* * *

Miles watched from the shelter of the pub doorway as his DI and his DC talked on the corner of the road. They were no longer holding hands but the sheepish smiles they were sharing spoke volumes about what had occurred between them.

The door behind him squeaked on its hinges as it swung open. Mansell appeared beside him and leaned against the door frame.

“Everything okay, boss?”

Miles raised his eyebrows and continued looking in the direction of Chandler and Kent. Mansell followed his gaze. After a few seconds of observation he let out a short surprised laugh.

“Wow,” was all Mansell could say.

“I guess your little fight did some good after all,” Miles quipped.

Mansell dipped his head, clearly still ashamed. But when he turned to his boss, he saw that Miles was grinning. He laughed softly in response, relieved to be let off the hook.

Mansell thought for a moment and then spoke quietly, “Do you think they’ll be okay?”

Miles considered his DC beside him for a moment and then glanced back at the corner of the street. Chandler and Kent were sneaking glowing glances at each other as they started to walk side-by-side and out of sight.

Miles smiled to himself and shrugged his shoulders, “I guess we’ll have to see.” He nudged his colleague light-heartedly, “Come on, I’ll buy us another round.”


End file.
